The Wraith's Shadow
by LordBlackStag77
Summary: A small group of Rangers are the last force of man left in Uruk controlled Mordor. Join them as they face off against one of the most powerful War-chiefs in known history, The Wraith-Killer. Based off of the video game Shadow of Mordor, with a few changes.
1. Prologue

The fire crackled slowly, glowing sparks spitting from its center only to die off in the cold, dark air. Arasil sat next to the flame, holding out his gloved hands to try and absorb some extra heat. He looked up at the other cloaked figures gathered around, clad in green and blue. Some of the other Rangers met his gaze, but quickly broke it, looking back down at the fire.

"Is this what we've resorted to now?" A voice from behind Arasil. He turned to see the grizzled man striding past many huddled figures, the silver sword hilt glinting off his back from the moonlight. "Huddling around a single fire in fear?"

"What else can we do? We're beaten, the Uruks are too strong!" A man by the name of Zachariah stepped forward.

Arasil kept to himself, holding a tin mug between his hands and raising it to his lips slowly, sucking the dregs of his supper from the chilling metal. He listened in on the two arguing, but didn't pay much attention. It was something about the Uruks they'd been fighting this whole time, ever since they retook Mordor. Arasil wasn't anywhere near the fighting on that first day, the day the Black Gate fell. He had been told it was a massacre, the guard not standing a chance against the Black Captains. He guessed that he was lucky to be on a hunting trip, otherwise he wouldn't be enjoying this cold stew at this particular moment.

"Well it's easy for you to come in here and talk shit about how we run. Not all of us have gone against the Wraith-Killer and lived to tell about it!" A hush fell over the camp as Zachariah said that. The grizzled ranger looked down at the fire, his left hand raising to a long scar covering his left eye, now white from damage. As his fingers gingerly touched the mark as if it still burned, his one good eye burned with a fiery passion.

"You say that as if it's a privilege to live after his blow strikes." He sat down on a stump, looking into the embers of the dying fire. "Let me tell you how wrong you are. Allow me to show you how living after he's beaten you, is worse than dying." He leaned forward, steepling his hands together, before he spoke.


	2. Chapter 1

"It's dark out." Elros gazed from the secluded bush at Executioner's Watch. He shifted nervously as the still figure to his right seemed like a statue, waiting.

"It's Mordor." The thin, raspy voice came slowly from the shadow beneath his hood. "What else do you expect?"

Elros shook his head and shifted once more in an attempt to shake the feeling of pins and needles arising in his legs. He looked back up at the Uruks patrolling the walls, the assortment of makeshift weapons and rundown armor covering the colored skin of the warriors.

"Let's go." Elros' mentor broke into a silent sprint towards the base of the wall, Elros following close behind, his feet fitting into the tracks before him.

The two men squatted down beneath the moss covered stones, just beneath the reach of the torchlight. Elros looked up, his hood falling to his shoulders to reveal his orange hair, tangled together in ragged curls. His eyes scanned the flickering torchlight as it reached down the cold stone.

"What exactly are we doing here?" Elros inquired. He was dragged onto this mission before sun up, his peaceful dreams being rudely interrupted by the boot to the side. His mentor practically dragged him from the tent in his skivvies.

"We've been commissioned to eliminate the local Warchief. It should be a walk in the park." The man knelt down by the edge of a cliff, judging the distance to the other side. "He spends most of his time in the yard, and his only protection is an aspiring captain with little experience."

Elros nodded and looked over his shoulder, uneasy at the simplicity of this plan. It was never this easy with Warchiefs. He reached to the belt across his chest, the sword across his back shaking slightly.

"Come on, across here." The two leaped across the gap onto the makeshift bridge that led around the corner to protruding stones that allowed the men to climb over the wall. Elros hoisted himself onto the wall just outside an archer tower. He climbed the slick stones until he could look over the top at the disfigured yellow beast below, a driftwood crossbow clutched between its claws as it snarled at the passing Uruks below.

"Stupid captains, always thinking they better than Uglug. Puttin me on guard duty while they relax in stupid halls." The Uruk was oblivious of the ranger above him, continuing on his rant about how he could kill a captain and take his place, but probably won't due to some random reason. Elros was about to leap down and drive his dagger through the neck of the Uruk, when Uglug fell to his knees suddenly, a gloved hand gripping the right side of his face. Elros watched in awe as a blue light emitted from the hand, covering the beast's face slowly. Uglug was pushed, the force knocking him onto his back as he looked upward in fear at Elros' mentor.

"You will obey!" The harsh, ghostly voice pierced the air around them as if the walls themselves were speaking.

"Y-yes master." The Uruk spoke with a whisper as Elros' mentor reached to the creature's face once more, sucking intelligence from it as a mosquito sucks blood.

The display ended with all the blue mist disappearing, and a sword separating the head of the Uruk from his neck. The body fell to the ground with a quiet thud, a pool of dark blood pouring from the neck that used to hold a disfigured head. Elros stood there in awe.

"How?" He managed to squeak out. "How did you do that?"

"There are many things you have yet to learn my apprentice." He placed a gloved hand on Elros' shoulder. "All in due time youngling." Elros nodded his head in a bow, still trying to grasp what he had just witnessed.

"Focus up. They're close." The hooded master leapt from the archer tower onto the wall below. Elros shook his head and followed closely, the faint sound of footsteps along the wall echoing his thoughts.

The two men soon arrived to what the rangers called "The Yard," It was a relatively large clearing of stone with a raised area where all in the yard could witness regular executions. The Yard was almost completely empty at this point. Almost.

Two Uruks stood in the center of the area, talking to each other in the gruff voices shared by all their kin. The larger one wore a set of armor composed of the same black metal the Uruks used in everything, he held a large spear in his right hand. Elros had never seen an Uruk of this size. He would've sworn that he was bigger than even the Tower, although he knew in the back of his head that he was wrong. It was true that this Uruk was large though, standing over six feet tall with arms that looked like the could rip a Warg in two. The other Uruk was less foreboding however, standing next to his green cousin. Elros judged he was only 5' 10", wearing only a chest plate as protection for his orangey skin. A hooked blade rested on his hip as he conversed with the metal wall next to him.

"Keep an eye out Skor." The smaller one spoke now, with what could be mistaken for concern. "You know the rangers will have put a target on your back by now."

"I do not fear the pink skins." The taller one's voice sounded like gravel be scraped on metal, Elros almost cringed. "They have tried to kill me many times before, and yet here I am."

"They've grown stronger as of late, bolder even. I fear for your safety."

"Nonsense, the slave rebels pose more of a threat than them." He placed a hand on the smaller one's shoulder. "Now, go and find Dûsh. I need him to march West."

The smaller one did not seemed pleased by that statement. "You're sending him against the Graûg-Hunter!?" Skor nodded.

"Send me in his place master! I have a score to settle with that worm." He clenched his fists in anger.

"Don't be a fool! I need you here, by my side. Besides, you don't hold the forces needed to take on Dhûl's horde." The smaller one shrunk in defeat, a sigh escaping his lips. Elros shifted nervously.

"Now." The shadowy figure whispered, and the two rangers leapt off the wall towards the armored Uruk.

The beast spun quickly, his spear shaft reaching out and slamming into the side of Elros' master, sending him rolling to the side. The warning call for rangers was sent out as Elros rolled towards Skor, bringing his sword up to bite into the wooden shaft of the deadly spear, stopping the blade only inches from his face. He pushed it to the side and spun the opposite direction, catching a glimpse of the smaller Uruk locking swords with his mentor before the mass of steel blocked his sight. Skor went with the momentum of the spear and swung it in a huge arc that Elros narrowly escaped, at the expense of a few hairs. The young ranger pushed the point of his sword into a gap in the armor just behind the knee, resulting in an angry growl from the Uruk as a lightning fast hand shot out, grabbing Elros' shoulder. Skor threw the figure in the green cloak into the stone of the perimeter wall, launching a jab towards the young man. Elros blocked the attack by grabbing the nearby barrel of grog and throwing it in the way of the savage weapon. The Uruk pulled his spear back, attempting to use his free hand to yank the wooden barrel from the tip, not noticing the figure inching behind him.

Elros jumped onto the Uruk's back plate, pulling himself upwards with his left hand as he drove his right hand down, clutching a dagger. A howl broke through the air as the Uruk Warchief reacted to the metal piercing his neck. Warm blood sprayed from the wound as Elros pulled his blade free, falling onto the stones below as Skor fell forward. He let out a small laugh at his accomplishment, turning to his master to share in the glory, only his smile faded.

Rain began to pour down around the yard as Elros watched in horror at the figure of his master crawling on the ground towards him. The Uruk captain stood above the figure as it wormed along, his black blade shining with crimson blood. Elros tried to shout, but the wind caught in his throat. The orange Uruk reached down to the body of Elros' master, finding a grip in the man's black hair. With a yank the two men's eyes met. Master and apprentice looked at each other with rage, fear, shame, and sadness. Time seemed to stand still in those moments, before a blade ripped through the bone, flesh, and skin that kept a head attached to one's neck.

Elros let out a shout that put the thunder to shame, screaming for his master that taught him everything he knew. Screaming for a fallen comrade, and friend. His eyes filled with rage and fury as he looked between the Uruk and the bloody head he held in his left hand.

Without thinking, Elros charged at the Uruk, wielding his dagger as his only weapon, his sword still pierced in the leg of the dead Warchief. His feet made the water on the floor splash to the heavens as his rage carried him forward, the only thought in his head to kill the beast. His fist raised upwards, the point poised to pierce the Uruk, until a force knocked him to the side. He slid and rolled a few feet, finally catching himself and looking upwards to see what knocked him over as it swung towards him again. His master's head caught him under his chin, sending his body bending backwards. The wet handle of his dagger slipped from his fingers right before the third hit landed on the left side of his face, sending him to the ground.

It was only then that Elros noticed the Uruks gathering around the two figures as the Uruk captain beat Elros again and again with his former master's own head. He stopped suddenly, dropping the bloody lump right next to Elros. Then the chant began. One by one the Uruks began to slam their weapons against each other in a rhythmic fashion. Spears met shields, Axes met axes, swords met swords, and fist met chest as the rhythmic pounding rose around the yard. Then he heard it.

"Skûn! Skûn! Skûn! Skûn!" All the Uruks shouted at the top of their lungs, except for one.

The Uruk above Elros looked down at the beaten figure, smiling. He reached down and yanked the boy to his knees by his collar as if he was a dog. Skûn raised his sword in the air as the chant changed to a cheer. The young ranger looked up, wanting to meet his maker with his eyes open. The sword fell down onto the man, slicing across his left eye.

Elros reached up to the sudden searing pain as blood spilled onto his face and into his other eye. He felt a strong hand grip his throat and hoist him upwards. Hot breath filled his face, making Elros almost glad he couldn't see the image in front of him, yet he wondered why he was still alive. His eyes were shut tight, attempting to keep the blood from causing anymore damage. The breath came rushing out now, forming words.

"Not. Worthy."

Skûn threw the ranger to the ground as two more Uruks lifted him by either arm, carrying him in the direction of the entrance. The Yard cheered again and resumed the chant of "Skûn!" in honor of his victory, and as a pledge of loyalty. A few Uruks seemed to notice the other body now, inching forward cautiously to examine the strange blue glint emitting from the left hand. A gasp fell from them as they realized what he was.

"Wraith Killer." The whisper emitted from one, then many lips. "Wraith Killer!"

Skûn didn't realize that he had killed one of the legendary Grave Walkers. He knelt down by the body, pulling the green cloak from what was left of the man's neck, and hoisting it into the air.

"Skûn! Wraith-Killer!" He liked the sound of that. Very much.

Elros was thrown to the ground outside the gates, being warned that next time wouldn't be so fortunate. The ranger stood slowly, running a hand across his good eye and looking towards the horizon, taking his first step towards home.

Nobody could have predicted what happened after that. Elros managed to make it back to the Ranger Camp, his story of the orange Uruk spreading a layer of fear on the other rangers. Skûn Wraith-Killer became the Warchief of Executioner's Watch, his reputation calling many Uruk to pledge loyalty to him and fly his banner. After a short time he became one of the most powerful Warchiefs in known history, thwarting three more attempts by the Rangers to end his reign. The Ranger numbers grew thin, causing them to teach the ways of the Wraith to inexperienced apprentices that haven't even finished training, resulting in a decline of power. Now the Wraith-Killer challenges Dhûl Graûg-Hunter and all his force, in what may be the largest conflict between Uruks ever known.


End file.
